The Surface
by Quarter 'till Class
Summary: He ponders his existence almost as much as she does, but contradicts her theories with his obsession for vengeance. She pities him in many ways, but he disregards her trivial sympathies. He will find them, hauling his anchor and braving the surface. Yes, he will find those who left him behind. Nautilus x Nami
1. Ocean Dwellers

**Disclaimer: All and any League of Legends champion names belong to Riot. No OC's are included within this work, indicating that nothing is claimed or owned by the author, Quarter 'till Class. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft so is prohibited. Do not copy or create a reproduction of this work in any language without express written authorization of the author, Quarter 'till Class. Thank you. Please enjoy.**

 _ **Nautilus x Nami**_

 **Warnings: Violence, war, murder, weaponry, blood. Trigger warning.**

A/N: I ship this so damn hard and it's impossible to find. My souls hurts, how hard I ship it. So here you go, for those of us who fell in love with the creepy sailor and the cute fish.

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 **Chapter One: Ocean Dwellers**

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He ponders his existence almost as much as she does, but contradicts her theories with his obsession for vengeance. She pities him in many ways, but he disregards her trivial sympathies. He will find them, hauling his anchor and braving the surface. He'd spent what was once an eternity stalking the ocean floor. He longs for aching feet and stiffened muscles. What he would give for pruned skin and sore eyes is unspeakable and immeasurable. But the nothingness of what he is cannot be described. He does not feel in any physical sense, and he cannot recall such sensations. He will perish without the memories he strives to recollect. He will cease to exist with no life or purpose. And he will slaughter those who left him to die.

Nautilus watches her stare at him, unperturbed by such a reaction. The fear and hatred for the unknown does not stale her features as it does most. Instead, Nami smiles mildly and moves forward, beckoning the wave that is constant beneath her to follow. She had introduced herself to him at sea. Having sensed him within close waters and unwittingly come to his aid. He dismissed her as feeble and weak. Yet here she stands before him, independent and willing to battle. Wielding a weapon of magic and staring as though unafraid and overjoyed.

"I knew we would meet again." Her lips are curved into a very plush smile. Her skin is flushed lightly from the heat of the sun. And he recalls their first meeting, how he had pushed onward without acknowledging her. How consumed he was...still is.

"Indeed." He is unknowing of what else to say. A simple reply should be enough to satiate her social needs. And yet she floats around him elegantly, voice chipper and body as fluid as her home. She's moving through air as though it were the ocean, relying upon her wave for such grace. And she just keeps talking.

"What's your name?" She asks so simply. Like a child, developing a new relation. Seeking companionship.

But it was true that he did not know. And never had it once crossed his mind prior to being asked. He remembers nothing but his fate to die.

"Nautilus," he says. Like the ship in that book. A powerful vessel. A work that fought tide and ruthless wind to seek the shore.

"Call me Nami, please." Her confidence is behind her words. She is literally commanding him into a friendship. Directing him and verbally manipulating him into talking to her and using her name. This place...this Institute. It holds unusual characters. And she belongs here, he decides, because they cannot compare to her uniqueness in any way.

"You haven't been here long, have you?" She's asks him as she tugs his massive wrist in a certain direction. He hesitates to follow.

"Long enough," he responds.

"Are you hungry?"

"Never."

"I will take you to eat!" She's excited and disregards his negativity. Her eyes light up; orange pearls in a lagoon of black. She does not notice his booming voice or threatening aura. She is naive and stubborn, a youth seeking the world without knowing what it is. A true explorer, searching for the good in those she deems trustworthy.

He doesn't know what makes him trustworthy. Nor does he know exactly what she considers trustworthy. He doesn't even know why he's alive.

"Ocean dwellers help one another," she says so mater-of-factly with a hand upon her chest, referencing herself. Her tail flips and slaps water in all directions. She smiles.

"I see." He does not appreciate the term "ocean dwellers", but he finds it best not to speak. She's proud of her oceans. She boasts of where she comes from. He doesn't mind it. He may have once felt the same of his homeland. He may have felt pride in his heritage, also. He doesn't remember.

She takes him to eat anyway, although he questions if he can. She tells him not to worry. That they would face that tide when it comes.

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 **There will be a second chapter. If you like QuinnxTalon, I have another work in the making, already on chapter ten. Please review! I love my criticism!**


	2. Dying

**Warnings: Violence, war, murder, weaponry, blood. Trigger warning.**

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 **Chapter Two: Dying**

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She tells him an awful joke and he actually holds back an equally awful sort of laugh. A dry one, made more of infatuation than humor. Such a heavy sound that scares away the passerbys. She explains how seafood terrifies her but the idea is still new and possible. Would it be foul? Is it actually from the sea? Would it be cannibalism? She won't know until she orders.

Nami asks him how he became what he was, but he had a feeling she already knew. And when he tells her he cannot recall, she explains that the blackness of the ocean will change you. And that the only thing more bitter is the darkness of a heart. But he disregards her sentimental folly, and wonders how long she can last without water. Because she's sitting in a booth, explaining how restaurant owners don't appreciate wet seats and slippery floors. Even if they do frequent the odd forms and temperaments of Institute champions.

"Don't rush," she says. "I'll be fine. Enjoy the food." She has an odd perspective on this world. She's enthused over the legs of surface walkers. Excited over the cultures and notable differences separating them from her ocean. How different she is, as she sips aggressively at a glass of water, trying to be polite while suffocating. He begins to like her. She's funny.

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She smiles at him, warm and without judgement. Her hand unintentionally brushes the plating upon his own, and he feels nothing. She has her fingers gripping at the metal of his wrist, leading him to some unknown destination on the surface. He's still learning to like her, watching patiently as she makes hand gestures and speaks. The pale yellow of her skin reflects the intensity of her scales. The upturn of lips she bestows upon him evokes senses he is foreign to. Very distant, forgotten recollections. He wonders the significance of her headpiece. Is it a sign of stature? Armor? Fashion?

She grins at the memory of her first piece of chocolate. Providing visual of its size with her fingers, eyes sheen with glee. She says it was fairly bitter, with a heavy sweetness. And she says fancy ones have sea salt on top, though she doesn't understand the appeal. She manages to associate everything and anything with the ocean. She says it's a source of life, just like food.

He can't comprehend her kind of thinking. It tends to be everywhere, suffocating anything reasonable when outside of battle. But she thinks about her home, and describes structures far more elaborate and strong than anything on the surface. She expands her arms out, wide, providing critical detail to her tales. She tells him a children's lore about the monster in the rivers. And she laughs so loudly, saying that she'd recently found the lore to be true. But she speaks with her hands, even more than her voice. She carries her weapon in the crook of her arm, making gestures to elaborate her discussions.

He doesn't speak as much as he should. Nami speaks enough for both of them, regardless.

She tells him of her journeys. Of her battles and conquests. How she defeated the creatures of the depths to obtain the pearl her people so desperately needed. She refused to sit idle and wait for the death of her kin. She said one beast was serpent-like. Agile and swift. She conquered it, tangling it within her staff. She explained such with swishing arms and a thrashing tail, excitement in its most pure and unadulterated form.

She was meant to be a storyteller, not the Tidecaller.

"What do you remember?" She asks him, suddenly. He doesn't remember anything.

"Nothing."

"That's okay," she says. But she knows. Nami knows. He remembers dying. Being left to drown. She can see it in his eyes, illuminated by vengeance and aggression. Bloodlust, like that of a Darkin. "You remember more than you think."

So much of this world, he notices, is foreign to her. A creature with no memory of who he once was knows far more than she has ever been able to research. She believes humans to be strange. So aggravated and sensitive, keen on violence and self-sustenance. Their goal is not peace or evolution, nor enlightenment. It is conquest. It is self-preservation. They feel so much hatred, consumed by spite. And he agrees with her, dreadful in his tones of warning. He would know, of anyone, how quickly humans will abandon their own. And he remembers, though not vividly, the devastation that war and hatred had wrought upon the land. Cowardice, he blames. Fear.

"I suppose," he says. Because she's right, he remembers more than he though. More than he cares to.

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 **There will be a third chapter. If you like QuinnxTalon, I have another work in the making, already on chapter ten. Please review! I love my criticism!**


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